


I wonder what I look like in your eyes?

by aorivelai



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, M/M, Zhangjun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-05 04:39:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15162857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aorivelai/pseuds/aorivelai
Summary: Just a little love story, featuring first sights, roses and chocolates, confessions, dates, running away, goodbyes, and maybe, maybe, finding their ways back.





	1. ...until I met you

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random statement: You Zhangjing is my bias and he’s so damn talented and he deserves the world please please love him thankyouverymuch. 
> 
> Also, I've already written the first three chapters, but there's some editing I need to do, so I'll be updating this trash around every 2-3 days? Haha probably not. I'll try my best.

The five-year-old blinks as he stares out the window; there’s a giant white truck parked in front of his house.

The sun had barely risen. It was still dark, and splatters of pinks and yellow had only just started to appear in the distant horizon. But it was hardly peaceful – no, with all the noise they’re making chucking about the fridge and the beds, he’d thought the skies were falling. The crashes and bangs had jolted him awake just a few seconds before. 

He tore his gaze away, and hastily pulled on a shirt and shorts.

 

‘Mom?’

‘She’s gone to work already,’ a voice yells from the kitchen. The exquisite aroma of pancakes drift through the air, as the boy skips to the kitchen. And sure enough, the sturdy figure of their housekeeper was there, watching over the stove. She smiles and he comes in and breathes a content sigh of happiness as he jumps up to catch a glimpse of the beautiful hotcakes.

Then he turns around and asks, with the tilt of his head, ‘don’t you usually not come on Tuesdays, Mrs Qian?’

‘It’s Tuesday alright, Yanjun darling,’ housekeeper Qian replies as she fondly ruffles his hair, and then turns back on the pancakes. ‘But your ma’s got a very busy day today, lots of meetings and that sort, so she can’t take care of you like she usually does.’

‘Oh, okay.’

There’s a beat of silence before he suddenly remembers why he’d come down in the first place.

‘Um, I have a question. Why’s there a giant truck in the front yard, with people carrying around stuff?’

She smiles down at him. ‘That would be our new neighbours,’ she replies. ‘They’re moving all their furniture and appliances into the house next door to us. Didn’t you see the sold sign that’s been hanging in front of that yard for the past few weeks?’

Yanjun shakes his head.

‘Well, we have new neighbours. I suppose we should go over and say a hello sometime, hmm?’

He opens his mouth to agree, before the housekeeper gasps, and lightly smacks her forehead. ‘Before a I forget,’ she says, ‘your mom said they might have a kid. About your age. How exciting is that?’

‘Can I go see, please?’

‘Sure, sweetie.’

 

 

The moment he walks across to the other house, he sees someone, his age, struggling with a cardboard box whilst he held a lollipop in his mouth. As he gets closer, he gets a better view of the boy. He’s kinda short, and has big eyes, and weird ears, he thinks. Hurrying over, he waves, and smiles. The other boy notices him, and tries to wave back, though he stumbles whilst doing so and drops the box. The contents spill onto the paved stone path, and the other boy groans, brushing at his knees and graciously takes Yanjun’s hand as he steadies himself up, though his face is completely flushed with embarrassment.

They pick up the stuff together. There’s not really much, just plastic toy cars and a few books.

‘I’m sorry,’ Yanjun said, hesitantly. “Um, my name’s Yanjun. I live right there,’ he points, and the other boy nods.

The other boy swallows, and nods, murmuring a soft, ‘I’m Zhangjing.’

Yanjun blinks, cocking his head curiously. ‘Doesn’t that mean, like, improvement?’

‘Yeah, my parents are weird.’ He picks up the box again and starts walking, before turning back around uncertainly and saying, with a shy smile, ‘you wanna come and see my house?’

‘Yea,’ Yanjun says happily, grinning so wide his dimples showed, and Zhangjing smiles too, most of his nervousness suddenly gone.

Yanjun has a nice smile, he notes distractedly.

 

 

They get to Zhangjing’s room, and Yanjun helps him hang up his seemingly infinite collection of posters. Then Zhangjing’s parents, as patiently as they can, suggest they go to Yanjun’s house first after Zhangjing accidently ripped off a large chunk of the wall trying to stick up his mini-tv. It’s all a bit unfair, Yanjun thinks, observing a distraught Zhangjing. No one had told them that they weren’t supposed to use duct tape, especially since it seemed to be lying around everywhere throughout the house.

Anyhow, it gives Yanjun a chance to show off his Pokémon collection.

A while later, Qian knocks on the door and asks if anyone wants ice-cream-and-soda, and Yanjun enthusiastically nods. But Zhangjing tenses, and refuses politely, though anyone could see he was half-drooling. Even Qian asks him again, if he’s sure he doesn’t want one, especially in the increasingly humid weather, and he slowly shakes his head, biting his lip. But when the lone drink does come, of which Yanjun happily consumes, Zhangjing’s gaze become interlocked with it, unable to look away, and his mouth waters tremendously.

‘You want some?’

Zhangjing looks up at Yanjun, and slowly nods, embarrassed. Then Yanjun holds it out for him, but he hesitates.

‘Can I drink from your straw?’ he asks, warily.

Yanjun shrugged. ‘Yeah. I don’t really care.’

Zhangjing’s still wary. ‘Isn’t it kinda like, I dunno, unhygienic? Like, almost a kiss?’ His face turns red again.

‘I can get you a straw if you want.’

‘No, no! It’s fine. It’s fine.’ Grabbing at the drink, he slurps it energetically, whilst terribly, terribly conscious of the other boy’s gaze on him as he does so. He gets brain freeze, but it doesn’t rid of the furious blush in his cheeks.

 

 

They take a walk into town central that afternoon. Maybe it was a bit of a risk having two five-year-olds walk out in the open, but then again, this area was the renowned left side of the city, which everyone knew only the wealthy and famous inhabited. No one ever feared crime in this area; it was forever peaceful, with the biggest disruption that’d occurred having been when a cat jumped upon a bird. That cat was sent off by its shamefaced owners soon after.

They get to the park, and Yanjun grins.

‘And that’s the playground,’ Yanjun exclaims happily, making a beeline for the swings. Zhangjing follows suit, laughing all the while. There’s two swings, fittingly enough, and soon they’re in an intense competition in finding who could get the highest.

‘I’m flying!’ Zhangjing screams, and Yanjun laughs. It does feel like they’re flying, as they clutch on the ropes for dear life, swinging violently up and down. It’s a lovely scene – like something straight from a television advertisement.

 

Then it starts raining.

 

First, it’s just a splatter upon their faces, as their adrenaline fades and legs stop swinging. It’s grey above, they see as they turn their heads up to the sky. The sun becomes dimmer and dimmer, more and more hidden away from sight. The skies seemed to be closing altogether. Then a flash of lightning blazes across the miserable greyness, and hastily, they reach down to the ground and skid to a stop. Fear settles in the both of them; they’re both pretty far away from the closest shelter. Yanjun looks around desperately, and spots the small barbeque shed. They could go there.

‘Zhangjing! We should go to the-’

_BOOM!_

They both flinch, and Zhangjing falls the ground with a small gasp, staring in shock at the sky. They’re frozen.

Around them, the rain falls heavier.

Looking back, Yanjun would often cringe at how dramatic they were at the time, considering it was just a usual storm. But in that moment, to the two boys felt like they were possibly about to die, the way their hearts thudded and they stood stiff, cowering below the big bad monster of the sky. Zhangjing suddenly looks like he’s about to cry, and for whatever reason that’s what shakes Yanjun into action.

Stumbling forward, he grabs hold of Zhangjing’s hand, and heaves him up. ‘We’re going to the barbeque shelter,’ he says, with as much assurance and confidence he can muster. ‘We’d be safe there.’

Zhangjing stares at him with wide eyes, before slowly nodding, and together, they started to run.

 

And Zhangjing may stumble once and twice, and Yanjun might slip upon the wet grass and the steadily forming mud. But in the end, they’re still there to heave the other up.

 

When they finally, and miraculously reach the barbeques, they still clutch onto one another, refusing to let go. Whilst it’s true they’re both shivering and drenched, and the other provides a certain amount of warmth, there’s also a reassuring sense of comfort that they both feel when with each other. It’s hard to put in words, hard to explain. They collapse by the metal of the barbeque, which’s still somewhat warm after the last cookout. It’s pleasant, and they shuffle against it, still huddled together, sighing contently.

Yanjun shrugs his coat off and glances down at the fatigued Zhangjing, who looks up at him and only smiles. Not really knowing why, Yanjun suddenly feels obligated to protect him, forever and ever. Carefully, but meekly, he loops an arm around Zhangjing, who doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he then leans his head against Yanjun’s shoulder, and for a moment, though they’re both possibly freezing to death, everything’s pretty perfect.

Like that, they watch the rain, in peaceful silence. They watch the trees dance, the swaying of grass, slow build-up of puddles and expansion of the lake, and the falling of the millions and billions of little droplets from above.

It could be pretty if you looked at it that way, Yanjun figured, as a small smile spreads across his face.

 

Zhangjing falls asleep against him, and Yanjun’s dozing off when housekeeper Qian and Zhangjing’s parents show up, clutching umbrellas and screaming their names, bolting towards them the moment they see them. Yanjun provides a small wave before they’re both smothered by warm hugs and lifted up by strong arms.

Yanjun falls asleep then, with the happy reassurance the other would be alright.

Alas, they both catch colds the next day, but maybe, maybe, it was worth it in the very end. 

Maybe. 


	2. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos and comments :)) I love you all!
> 
> Another thing: I think one dollar equals five yuan? I may be wrong, but I’m sure it’s along those lines. Also, I have a bad habit of switching between past and present tense randomly, so you’ll just have to bear with me.

 

They’re in grade three now, both eight years old.

It’s also Valentine’s Day today, and Zhangjing knew that they were just going to make paper flowers out of glue and red paper, like they did last year. Then the teachers would have them give them to their parents, as to not encourage love at too young an age, along with a small clear plastic bag of little sugary heart-candies and chocolates. It was pointless, really, he thought, sighing. The teachers thought that if the kids fell in love or got into relationships then it would distract them from their schoolwork.

So, sitting on his bed, he’d opened his little plastic pink piggy bank, patted out the coins and carefully counted them. He’d really worked hard this week, having helped pull the weeds, mown the lawn, done the dishes – just for some coins, as pocket money. But usually, his mom would only have a few coins in her pocket that she could spare, and so he’d crossed his fingers and he sorted the coins into their piles. Grabbing a pencil and paper, he furrowed his brows as he carefully counted out every single piece of coinage. He hadn’t been so concentrated on something in a long time, he though. Well. This was very, very important.

After about five minutes, after checking all his working out not twice, but three times, he found he had thirty-one yuan exactly. Rolling off his bed, he dug hurriedly through his bag, before finally retrieving the half-torn piece of paper.

_ONLY_ _¥ 30.50 EACH._

Weight lifted off his chest, he sighed happily and collected the right amount, carefully sealed it into his small, cloth purse, put it into his schoolbag, and went to bed satisfied.

 

 

He awoke at exactly seven o’clock that day, fully awake the moment his alarm started ringing, and bolted upwards. Throwing on his uniform, and grabbing his schoolbag, he hurried into the kitchen and flung open the fridge.

‘What on earth are you up so early for?’

His mom appears, watching him amusedly. ‘You’re never up this early. Do you have plans?’

Zhangjing swallows. ‘Uh, nah. I just really wanna go to school early.’

‘And this doesn’t have anything to do with Valentine’s Day, at all?’

Zhangjing shakes his head vigorously.

‘Alright then,’ his mom says, eyebrow raised. ‘Your lunchbox’s in the top shelf.’

He nodded, grabbed it and shoved it into his schoolbag, and quickly thanked his mom. She kissed him on the forehead, before he was off and running through the door, faster than his mom could yell goodbye.

‘That kid,’ his mom sighs, chuckling softly.

 

Barging in and almost giving the florist, Mrs. Liu, a heart attack, Zhangjing slaps his purse down and declares triumphantly, ‘one rose, please.’

‘My goodness,’ Mrs Liu gasps, leaning back on her chair. She was an old woman, preferring to spend most of her time either on her flowers or on her rocking chair, knitting jumpers for her cats, or catching up on decades’ worth of sleep. ‘This shop isn’t actually open yet, sweetie. It opens at eight o’ clock.’

Seeing Zhangjing’s face fall rather spectacularly, she quickly waves her hand in dismissal of her previous statement. ‘But, of course, I can make an exception for you. Now what’d you say? One rose?’

Zhangjing nods animatedly.

‘Have someone that you fancy, do you?’ Mrs Liu says, smiling warmly at the small boy before her. Retrieving a rose, those thorns had been cut off, she wraps it up carefully in clear, plastic wrapping, fills it with a trickle of water from the tap and hands it to Zhangjing, who clutches it as if it’s the key to the universe, his gaze transfixed on it in wonder. Mrs Liu can only laugh softly as she collects the money. She notes casually that he’s fifty cents short, but dismisses it. Who am I, she thinks amusedly, to prevent young love?

 

‘There’s going to be a very lucky girl today, isn’t there?’ she says, winking.

 

Zhangjing blinks at her, and opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to reply. In the end, after a moment’s awkward silence, he can only exclaim a quick, ‘thank you!’ before rushing out. He has to hope Mrs Liu doesn’t notice how much her well-meaning words had hurt him, as his pace slowed, slower, and slower, until he stood still, staring at the house next to his.

Was this a good idea?

What if Yanjun was weirded out?

Dread was now swirling about in his gut, and he grimaced. He could say, like, the store ran out of all other flowers until there were only roses left. Or, he only had enough money to buy a rose. It wasn’t that he was in love with his best friend. No, no, no, he just wanted to give him a nice flower due to the fact that he valued their friendship very, very much. You can do that on Valentine’s Day, right?

…would Yanjun buy that?

Suddenly, all the excitement that’d previously built up disappeared, to be replaced by fear. He started walking towards Yanjun’s house, but as he grew nearer and nearer, his anxiety could only grow as well, greater and greater. Last minute, he pushed the flower into his bag, and pressed the doorbell on Yanjun’s door, still on his tip-toes. He’s greeted by Yanjun’s housekeeper, though, instead of the actual boy himself.

‘Good morning, um, is Yanjun…?’

‘Oh, he already left for school. It’s a bit past the time you two usually meet up, hmm?’

Zhangjing glanced at his watch and groaned. He was four minutes late. Oh lord, what if Yanjun hated him now? Oh no, no, no. 

Yelling a quick thank-you-goodbye, he rushed down the road, fast as his legs could carry him.

 

He sees Yanjun’s figure outside the classroom, at their lockers, eyes downcast and face scrunched. His heart clenches, and in that moment, he’s suddenly hit by a burst of courage. The weight of importance the rose carried was far too great to him, and he decided, in that second where Yanjun’s frame became visible that he would give the crimson flower to Yanjun if it was the last thing he ever did.

‘LIN YANJUN!’ he screamed, passionately. He watched as Yanjun’s eyes grew wide, and a crooked smile spread across his face as Zhangjing charged at him.

‘Lin Yanjun,’ he said, again, as he finally stood face to face with the other boy. Yanjun was a lot taller, he realised miserably. Oh well. His heart was drumming, so damn loudly against his ribs he wondered if Yanjun could hear. Heat was also creeping up to his face, as much as he tried to resist. He internally groaned; at least, he could say it was from all the running, and not that actually something else altogether.

‘You Zhangjing,’ Yanjun replied, grinning even wider. ‘I thought you’d deserted me or something! Oh, I have something for you.’

Then Zhangjing opened his mouth, and all of a sudden they were both hurriedly speaking at once, running short of breath.

‘Okay, okay,’ Yanjun said, clearing his throat. ‘You go first.’

‘So, uh, it’s Valentine’s Day, right? So, I know you like romantic things and stuff, so I uh, got you a flower. It’s really not much, but-’ Fumbling, Zhangjing produced the rose and shoved it at Yanjun. ‘There you go.’

Has it ever been this hard to figure out where to look? Should he be looking into Yanjun’s eyes, or should he look at the sky, or should he look at the ground, at his shoes? _Jeez, calm down, Zhangjing._

‘Zhangjing,’ Yanjun breathes, as he gently held the flower. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you!’

 _My face is entirely red now, isn’t it?_ Zhangjing thinks, as he sneaks a glance up at Yanjun. But Yanjun’s digging into his own bag, before he pulls out a little heart-shaped box, tied with a red ribbon.

‘You said you liked chocolate, right? I thought these looked really good and so, well, here you go. Happy Valentine’s Day?’

Wondering if all were a dream, Zhangjing takes the chocolates, a helplessly wide smile adorning his face, and embraces Yanjun, catching him by surprise.

‘Thank you,’ he whispers, and Yanjun hugs him back, as Zhangjing rests against the crook of his neck, and they hold on as if they were the only two people in the world. And Zhangjing wishes they could stay like that forever, in each other’s embraces without a worry in the world, clutching roses and chocolates, their hearts about to leap out of their chests.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, of course, that’s not how life works.

The next year, they both end up getting each other chocolates, but neither of them are heart-shaped, or tied up with a red ribbon. Just an exchange of food, as good friends do.

And the year after that, Zhangjing debates furiously between even getting Yanjun anything, before fear consumed him. Awkwardly, he decided to dodge the topic of Valentine’s Day gifts entirely throughout the day. In the end, he’d glad he didn’t buy anything, because Yanjun hadn’t, either.

What he didn’t know, though, was that Yanjun had a small flower in his bag, with a little note attached, and a small confession written upon it; an ‘ _I might kinda like you…’_ scribbled furiously on white paper, with red ink. And it lay there, until the end of school, when Yanjun gets home, tears prickling at his eyes. Producing the pink flower, he mutters a silent curse, before going out to the backyard and ripping it to shreds, throwing the remains into the compost bins. 

And that day, his little ten-year-old heart was shattered, along with the pieces of rose that lay among the dirt, hidden, concealed.


	3. confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up this chapter is a literal complete mess and I'm too scared to proofread it - you've been warned.

Alas, now in grade seven, Zhangjing has come to despise Valentine’s Day.

Because, always, always, every time he’d come to the lockers in the morning, and he’d see Lin Yanjun’s locker beside his, as much as he tries to ignore it. A clump of roses and flowers would hang there, and hanging from them would be little pink or white tags, or sometimes, entire letters, sealed with little heart stickers. Observing them, he cringed, and grimaced.

Suddenly Yanjun, the bastard himself, comes into view and Zhangjing quickly turns away.

When Yanjun came to stand in front of his locker, he stares at it for five seconds before silently taking the bunches and picking through them, scanning through the tags and infuriatingly carefully peeling open the letters. His face was entirely impassive, and it drove Zhangjing crazy how slowly he went through the miserable confessions, as if he actually cared, as if he might just accept one. He imagined Yanjun, with some girl, and felt like throwing up. Still, who was he to stop his best friend from dating? His mood worsened; it wasn’t like he owned Yanjun. It was a free country, and _his_ best friend of seven or so years, whom _he_ knew best out of anyone else in the world, could date whoever he wanted, even if it was someone else, who’d never deserve Yanjun, who’d never truly understand him, who might break his heart without a care in the world.

It took every ounce of effort in his body to keep his face blank.

‘I’m thinking,’ Yanjun says, casually, still flicking through the papers, ‘that maybe I should accept one of these this year.’

Zhangjing broke into a coughing fit. He waved away Yanjun’s concerned look, and did his best to collect himself.

‘Do you actually like any of them, though?’ he asks, as he fumbles open his locker, brushing his fingers over his books, though he didn’t need any of them. Man, he hoped Yanjun wasn’t looking at him.

‘I dunno,’ Yanjun murmured. ‘But it’s a bit cruel, don’t you think, turning them all down every year? And they’re all nice people. Some of these flowers are really expensive.’

‘But do you like any of them? If you don’t, then I think it’s kinda pointless, just dating someone because you pity them, or something.’

Yanjun doesn’t say anything, as he puts the flowers into his bag, and then pulls open his locker. Suddenly, a flurry of letters and envelopes fly out, drowning him.

Zhangjing wishes the world would end already.

 

 

Yanjun heaves a light sigh, as he stares at the light-coloured papers in front of him. Zhangjing had left, saying he needed the bathroom. Yanjun just hopes he isn’t sick – it’d be no good if he was, as he knew that his choral audition with the state choir was in a couple of days, and he knew how much it mattered to him-

Suddenly, there’s someone beside him, and it isn’t Zhangjing.

Turning around, he sees a girl. She’s got a pretty, pixie-like face, and wears large, round glasses that take up a huge proportion of her face. He’s seen her before, walking around with Zhangjing in the corridors in between classes. He just can’t remember her name. She notices Yanjun staring at her, and waves meekly. Then she turns back to stare at Zhangjing’s locker, and takes a deep breath. Yanjun continues to stare as she reached into her bag, and brought out a small, pink rose, wrapped in plastic, of which hung a paper envelope. Carefully, she produced a roll of clear tape, and ripped a few pieces, gently sticking the fragile flower to the blue plastic of the locker. Then she pressed down on the tape with all her might, and laughed as she did so, looking over at Yanjun, who still was staring at her blankly. Suddenly wondering if he was being rude, he turns away to look at the letters he held in his hands, but there’s a churning in his gut that he can’t control, and he can only hope that he doesn’t show it. A sudden, great urge to throw out all the letters was slowly overwhelming him.

‘Hey, Yanjun?’

As nonchalantly as possible, he turns back to look at the unknown girl. Who, for whatever reason, he’d now decided he disliked. _Yanjun, you idiot, whatever did she do to you?_

‘Yea?’

‘Is it possible, that you could not tell Zhangjing it was me? Like, pretend I wasn’t here,’ she says, grinning. ‘I was going to do this anonymously, in secrecy, but hey, now or never, you know?’

A dozen or so retorts build up in Yanjun’s throat, that he has to swallow down. _I don’t even know who the hell you are. How could I tell Zhangjing, who by the way, you have no chance with? Just saying?_

‘Okay,’ he forces himself to reply, with a smile that was almost a grimace. She flashes him a quick, thankful smile, obviously not noticing his distaste, before running away. And Yanjun just stares after her, a whirlpool of different emotions swirling within him, whilst not truly understanding why he felt as such.

In the corner of his eye, he sees the letter, and the rose.

It’s kinda like the rose he’d bought and kept in his bag, in grade five, he thinks. The remain are probably rotting in the vegetable garden now, supporting the dozen or so growing spinach and cabbage plants.

Boy, would he like to rip the thing in front of him to pieces right now.

Then in the distance, Zhangjing’s figure appears.

Suddenly, Yanjun’s muddled mind is flooded with panic-fuelled images. He sees Zhangjing, his best-friend-who-he’d-kinda-liked-since-the-day-they-met, accepting the girl’s stupid confession, imagines them holding hands, and imagines having to cope with seeing them together twenty-four-seven, all mushy and in love. He sees his own friendship with Zhangjing slipping away, as Zhangjing spends more and more time with the girl, until one day, they would be nothing but mere acquaintances.

And perhaps, he had bit of a habit of getting carried away with his imagination, but in that terrible moment, he felt as if it would soon be reality, if he let things be – if he didn’t do anything about the flower and note stuck upon the locker beside his.

So, he panics.

And rips the flower and letter away from their tape that held them, ripping and shredding off the little pieces that still stubbornly stuck on, while all the while checking that Zhangjing wasn’t close enough to see what he was doing. Luckily, the other seemed to be moving slowly enough, his head bowed all the while, but Yanjun doesn’t know whether to risk putting in the effort to ridding the plastic surface of the little traces, and instead focuses and shoving the flower into his bag with the others. But as he accidentally crumpled its petals, he stops, and guilt settles in his gut.

Later, out of pure curiosity, he opens the letter and scans through it. It was all very typical, he thought; the girl rambled on and on about how she’d had a crush on Zhangjing ever since she met him, how he was one of the nicest people she’d ever met, etc. But then, at the end, it requests that Zhangjing please go to the lakes after school, so that she could properly confess, and Yanjun feels like a monster. She didn’t seem like a bad person at all – it still pained Yanjun to think of her, alone, waiting for a boy who’d never come.

Man, he wanted to scream.

 

 

‘Hey, Zhangjing?’

The boy, who was busily scribbling down his little short story they’d been assigned to write in english-language class, looked up, and stopped his pencil. ‘What? What art thou your problem? I’m about to be the next freaking Shakespeare with this-’ he waves about his piece of paper, ‘and you dare disrupt me with your mundane problems! Begone, peasant-’

‘Did you get any Valentines this year?’

Zhangjing freezes, before snorting loudly, getting him a fierce glare from the teacher to whom he quickly mutters an apology to, then turning back to face an amused Yanjun and rolling his eyes.

‘Yanjun, are you trying to make me hate you?’ he whispers. ‘You know I didn’t get anything. You saw my locker. Now get out of my sight.’

‘No, you,’ Yanjun replies, earning him a light punch to the shoulder.

 

The plan, he thinks. The plan, the plan, the plan.

Basically, he thought, thinking it all out in his head as if he was drawing it out on dirt with a stick, he tells Zhangjing, tells him everything, which risked ruining their friendship altogether, sure, but he makes sure he doesn’t think about it too much. Then, he tells Zhangjing that he kinda stole a confession letter, then, he’d proceed to give the letter to him, and Zhangjing could go to the girl, and reject her, and everything would be fine and dandy.

Fine and dandy, indeed.

 

‘You wanna come over to my place this afternoon?’ Yanjun asks at lunch, as they sat under their little spot beneath the oak tree, behind the lockers. No one else knew of this place, and it felt special, like it was made just for them. Plus, it was comfortable, the soft grass beneath them whilst they leaned against the sturdy trunk of the oak, sitting together to fit between two great roots that extended to break through the concrete pavement beside them. It was either that, or the chaos of the cafeteria, where people screamed and ran and tossed about precious food. It genuinely pained Zhangjing to watch, and as an alternative they’d set up camp under the glorious oak tree.

‘Don’t you have a couple of girls to meet up with? Probably by the cherry blossoms, by the lake?’ Zhangjing teases, tearing open a packet of chips, and offering them to Yanjun. He takes a handful, much to Zhangjing’s dismay.

‘Nah,’ he replies. ‘I thought about what you said, you know. And I don’t really like any of them.’

‘Good,’ Zhangjing says, and then mutters something indiscernible under his breath.

‘What’d you say?’ Yanjun says.

‘Nothing,’ Zhangjing said. ‘I was just saying how they’re all too good for you anyways. They’re all really just tricked by your looks. It blinds and distracts them from your stupidity.’

Yanjun shoves him as he cackles, protesting that he was only pointing out the truth. ‘But yeah, sure, I can come over after school,’ he says after Yanjun stopped shoving him. ‘I’ve got too much free time right now. And, of course, no social or love life.’ He laughed.

Yanjun, unsure of how to reply, just nods and continues on with his sandwich.

 

To say Zhangjing’s a tad confused, as he watches Yanjun brood and fidget silently, is an understatement.

But to say that he didn’t have a glimmer of hope that it all somehow meant something, that finally, something was happening, would also be a lie.

 

To say Yanjun’s nervous, to simply say he’s scared for his goddamn life, is a severe understatement.

Because now, they’re walking home, and he really, really, genuinely wants to jump off a cliff. Putting one foot in front of the other has never been this difficult. And as much as he tries not to, he’s reminded of the numerous ways he could be turned down, and the number of ways this entire thing could go wrong, and the many, many ways that they could end up never talking again. But dammit, he thought. He couldn’t stand just being friends anymore. The thought that’s they’d just have to remain friends, for the rest of their lives, pained him in ways he couldn’t describe.

Now, or never.

No one ever got anything done, procrastinating. No one ever got anything done, without risking it all.

‘Yanjun? Are you okay?’

Yanjun startles awake from his intense internal pep talk at the sound of a concerned Zhangjing, who gently nudged him and clicked his fingers in front of his eyes.

‘Daydreaming again?’ Zhangjing asks softly, smiling.

‘Yeah,’ Yanjun replies, fidgeting with the spare coins in his pocket, unable to look up into his best friend’s eyes. ‘Just daydreaming.’

Zhangjing wonders why Yanjun’s sweating, when the sun had long hidden behind the clouds, and a welcome, comfortable breeze blew past, all the while whilst Yanjun was wearing a shirt and shorts.

He also wonders why the other looks so nervous.

He doesn’t dare hope, or even consider the possibility, that he might have something to do with it.

No, no, definitely not.

 

 

Well.

It was now raining.

Correction: it was storming, there was lightning, a whole lot of thunder, and there was no way that girl would be at the lake, still waiting for Zhangjing, and therefore, crisis averted, Yanjun technically didn’t need to do anything.

And it’s hard, it’s hard to describe the flurry of emotions filling him. Relief? Disappointment? Glancing over at the boy sitting beside him, who was sitting with him on the sofa chowing through the garlic bread and glorious slices of pizza, he wonders, as he had done too many times before, if he still should do it. And tell him.

Man, why did life have to be so difficult?

‘Look, Yanjun,’ Zhangjing murmurs, looking up at him. ‘I don’t know why you’ve been staring at me for the past minute, but if you’re not going to have that slice, I’m going to eat it. Also, can you pass the soda?’

Wordlessly, Yanjun passed the slice on his plate to Zhangjing, and handed him the bottle of alarmingly bright orange soda. Zhangjing gave him a curious look, before turning back to his food. Yanjun looked away, and grabbed the remote, turning on the tv and wandering through the channels, though none of them he was very interested in at all.

 

‘Let’s play truth or dare.’

Zhangjing glanced at Yanjun, tilting his head. ‘I haven’t played that game since, like, fifth grade.’

‘Well, there’s really not much to do. My mom’s confiscated my Xbox again, and there’s nothing good on the tv. Unless you wanna watch _the Sound of Music,_ or _Toy Story 2._ ’

‘Why those two movies?’ Zhangjing questions, laughing.

‘I dunno. It just happens to be basically the only two movies we have.’

‘Well, you know what, sure, let’s play truth or dare.’

 

First, it’s all just silly stuff, like, do you actually like pineapple on pizza, have you ever had a crush on a movie star and the sort, but soon, it becomes almost solemn.

When it becomes Zhangjing’s turn, he says, seemingly out of nowhere, ‘remember when we first met?’

Yanjun gazes at Zhangjing and the groans. ‘We used to be so stupid,’ he says in reply, looking outside. ‘It was kinda like this, wasn’t it? With the rain and all.’

Zhangjing opens his mouth, to continue, but freezes.

‘Zhangjing?’

The shorter boy shook his head, though he was frowning slightly, his lips forming a thin, straight line. ‘I think, I think I’ll pass,’ he murmurs, lying back against the sofa.

‘Why?’ Yanjun asks, curious. ‘We can ask each other whatever you want. That’s kinda the point.’ _Hypocrite,_ he mentally scoffs.

‘Nothing, nothing, forget it,’ Zhangjing looked back up at Yanjun. ‘Your turn,’ he said softly.

 

‘Do you have anyone you like?’

 

Zhangjing jolted. It was the slightest little jump, easy to miss, but he did so, and Yanjun didn’t know what to make of it. Slowly, he sunk deeper into the sofa, grasping the cushion that he held in his arms tighter and gazing at Yanjun oddly. His cheeks were becoming pink again; it did that often, and Yanjun thought it was adorable.

‘Yes?’ he replied, shrugging. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

Yanjun hummed. ‘Who is it?’ he says, nervously.

‘That’s two questions,’ Zhangjing replies, smirking.

‘Oh, right.’

‘Well, then,’ Zhangjing sat up, mischievous glint in his eyes, and shuffled closer to Yanjun, until they were practically face-to-face. Unwillingly, Yanjun swallows, and feels his face heating up.

 

‘Who do you like, Lin Yanjun?’

 

…

‘You,’ Yanjun says, but he’d drowned out by the rain, a furious battle happening outside between light and sound, roaring and flashing. It certainly wasn’t the weather he’d imagined he’d be confessing in, but there was no backing out now, was there?

 

 

‘What’d you say?’ Zhangjing as he leaned in. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear.’

He could still back out of this if he wanted, escape this crazy scenario he was living, and leave the task at hand for another time – no, no, no, he has to do this, he has to.

“You.’

 

Zhangjing stares at him, and Yanjun hides his face with a cushion. He’s red all over, he knows, and he can’t even feel his heartbeat anymore. It’s either beating much too fast, or he’s dead. He wishes it’s the latter. His hands are getting clammy, too. Oh, he’s screwed. Time to jump off that damn cliff.

Then Zhangjing was leaning against him, right by his side, somehow not yet running home screaming; he was leaning his head against Yanjun’s shoulder.

And Yanjun, whilst attempting to stop himself from hyperventilating, can’t help but think of a similar scene, all those years ago, under the rain. The day, he thought, that he’d fallen in love, without really understanding what love was. Now, as he looked down at Zhangjing, whose face was red as his own, it was like falling in love, all over again.

‘Your turn,’ Zhangjing said, and now it was Yanjun’s turn to jump.

‘My turn?’ he said, his mouth not having yet caught up with his brain.

‘Yep. Truth.’

Yanjun cleared his throat.

‘Do you like me? And if, if you don’t, um, could you consider it, maybe?’ He didn’t really know what he was saying, anymore. And then again, since when had he ever known what he was doing?

 

‘Of course I like you, Yanjun.’

 

‘Like…romantically?’

 

‘…Yeah. Unless that’s not what you meant?’

 

Words can’t describe how relieved, how happy, and how exultant Yanjun felt in that one moment when Zhangjing uttered those words, that carried so many years’ worth of unsaid feelings, and emotion, and suddenly, Yanjun felt tears threatening at his eyes, before they spill, refusing to be controlled. Zhangjing notices, and his eyes grow wide, before he reaches out and gently caresses his face, wiping at the tears that Yanjun couldn’t stop, though he’d given up trying.

‘Do I disgust you that much?’ Zhangjing asked with amusement, laughing softly as Yanjun sniffed and shook his head quickly. He leant forward, and hugged him tightly. They hold onto each other for what seems like an eternity, until Yanjun finally calms down, and slowly pulls away.

‘I don’t know if this is the right time and all,’ he breathes, taking in the boy before him and wondering if reality was just another one of his daydreams.

‘I don’t know, but can I like, kiss you?’

Zhangjing smiles, blush still in his cheeks, as he nods.

 

He tastes sweet, with a trace of orange-flavoured soda.

And man, does Yanjun wish that the time could stop, and they could just sit there, eyes closed and fingers intertwined forever. When they part, he finds Zhangjing pouting slightly, and it’s officially the cutest thing Yanjun had ever seen. 

‘Again?’ he whispers, and Zhangjing gladly complies.

 

When the rain had calmed down, it was decided that Zhangjing should probably go back home as to ensure his parents don’t call the police on Yanjun.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day?’ Zhangjing offers when they get to his doorstep. Yanjun, holding the little blue umbrella, can only laugh. Then as he turns around, Yanjun suddenly says, ‘Zhangjing?’

‘Yeah?’

Yanjun kisses him again, catching Zhangjing by surprise. Though it’s not unwelcome, as Zhangjing sighs contently into the kiss.

‘I love you,’ Yanjun whispers when they part, and any complains he’d had about his family, or a bystander seeing them catches in Zhangjing’s throat. And…he’s turning red. Again.

‘Just thought I’d mention it,’ Yanjun says, shrugging. ‘Since, well, I didn’t actually say it back there. I’ve kinda liked you ever since, well, the day we met?’

‘Me too,’ Zhangjing says, and they stared at each other before breaking out into laughter.

‘Why are we so hopeless?’ Yanjun groans, running his fingers through his hair.

‘Oi, you were supposed to the romantic one. I was kinda waiting on for you to make the first move.’

‘Oh, you have no idea-’

‘Shut up and kiss me again.’

 

 

In the early hours of the morning, as the sun first crawled out from the horizon, Yanjun came to observe the vegetable patch they’d been using their compost on all these years.

There’s a little pink flower, blooming amongst the lettuce.

He stares at it, before carefully plucking it from the dirt.

 

There’s change in the air today. Like the tectonic plates have rearranged themselves, like the moon’s flipped sides, like the earth had spiralled out of the solar system.

Instead of receiving the usual, ‘Zhangjing, we’re going to be late and it’ll be all your fault!’ he gets a, ‘Zhangjing, I love you and all, but we’re going to be late and it’ll be all you fault!’

Hmm.

‘Coming!’ Zhangjing yells, chucking his workbooks into his poor, half-disintegrated schoolbag and scrambling out, turning around to carefully lock the door before dashing to Yanjun’s side. He checks his watch, and groans. ‘We still have twenty minutes! What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Better early than late,’ Yanjun says, sounding like every teacher they’d had since kindergarten, and Zhangjing rolls his eyes, before Yanjun suddenly produces a little flower and holds it in front of Zhangjing. It’s a cute little thing, being small as a pinhead, and had a pretty light pink colour that brightened under the sun.

‘I had to have enough time to give this to you,’ Yanjun says, as if that explained everything. ‘I found it in the vegetable path, and thought it looked pretty.’

Slowly, though a bit unsure, he takes the flower and replies, ‘Thanks, I guess?’

Yanjun grins his dimpled, lopsided smile, of which Zhangjing adored so, and says, ‘you’re welcome. Oh, and can I hold your hand?’

Zhangjing breaks into a wide, helpless smile. Ah, what was he going to do? He was too fucking whipped.  

‘You didn’t have to ask,’ he replies, and they slot their hands together as if it’s second nature, as if it’s already routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so can everyone just like donate fluff prompts for the next chapter please I don't know what to write :)

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any mistakes feel free to tell me


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